July 1922
Edith sat at the telephone, staring at the receiver until her eyes stung, debating. She hadn't moved from her spot for what seemed like ages, alternating between watching the telephone and checking the grandfather clock, it's incessant tick-tocking mocking her lack of progress. Her insides churned as she rehearsed the words she wanted to say. A burp of bile ran up her throat and Edith clamped her hand over her mouth, clenching her jaw and pushing it back down. Mrs Butte had walked by her a number of times already, her eyes skirting away whenever Edith noticed her and she was sure the housekeeper was conjuring all sorts of rumors as to her state.
Taking a shallow breath, Edith's trembling hand clasped the receiver and she waited for the operator to speak.
"Downton Abbey, please. Yorkshire." Edith forced her voice to remain steady.
"Downton Abbey. This is Mr Carson speaking," the familiar baritone of her butler sounded tinny in her ear.
"Yes, Carson. This is Lady Edith. I wonder if Lady Grantham is available." She closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her stomach, feeling the gurgling tickle her palm.
"Hello? Edith, darling?" Edith's breath stuck in her chest at her mother's warm greeting and for a moment she contemplated hanging up.
"Mama...I wonder if you might come to London?" Edith's words were quiet, controlled.
"You mean now, darling?" Cora questioned, her astonishment clear in her expressive voice. "It's rather late. I'd never be back in time for dinner."
Edith dug a nail into the lacquered top of the expensive table that held the telephone. She should laugh and tell her mother to never mind her silliness, say goodbye and that she would see her in a few days, as was planned. It was a mistake to think she could do this.
"Edith?" The lilt of her name, said with the inflection of worry in her mother's strange accent brought a spring of moisture to her eyes.
"I just need you right now, Mama," she whispered, the tears building and blurring her vision.
A moment of silence and then, "I'll be there as soon as the next train."
Cora sat on the train, her hands folded tightly in her lap. She had tried reading the newspaper but the words swam in her head, refusing to stick as she thought about Edith. Since Michael Gregson's departure for Germany, her middle daughter had been melancholy. When he seemed to lose touch with everyone, presumed missing, that melancholy had turned desperate. Cora tried to remain optimistic for Edith's sake. Her mother's heart cracked and bled however, as Edith's face became permanently etched with worry. How many heartaches did one girl have to endure?
Now her mysterious telephone call begging her to go to London. Robert hadn't hid his consternation when he'd found her in her room, Baxter hastily packing her overnight bag. She had tried to be casual about it, but the memory of Edith's pained voice screamed Liar as she told Robert everything was fine, that their daughter just wanted her mother's company. Cora had always been quite bad at lying and after the briefest look of disbelief, Robert left her to complete her task.
Nipping the skin of her lip, agitating the same spot over and over, she tried to imagine what could have distressed Edith to the point of calling her up from Downton. The lack of answer ate at Cora's nerves. Edith was not one for intrigue but she could feel it in her gut, in her mother's heart, so eerily in tune to pick out the slightest sign of distress. The feeling told her whatever was bothering Edith was more than Michael Gregson's disappearance.
Edith pinched the heavy drapery between her fingers, once again anxiously looking to the street outside of the window. The scene was as it had been the number of times she had already done just this, the people of London bustling by and no sign of her mother. Again, now that the deed was done, she wondered if it had been unwise to phone that morning. Not simply unwise, but catastrophic, the obliteration of everything she had been up until this point. Soon her mother would arrive. Her firm but kind mother. What would she think of her awful secret? The nausea that had become as familiar as her heartbeat awoke as she worried the same path in the carpet over and over. She rushed out of the library and up to her bedroom, hand over her mouth as the sounds of a motor could be heard pulling up to the house.
Cora stepped out of the car, taking a moment to look up the stone facade of Grantham House, as though answers to all her questions would be carved into the outer walls. Now that she had arrived, she was eager to go in, see Edith, wrench whatever was troubling her out quickly, so that the wondering could be over.
Leaving the driver to tend to her bags, Cora trotted up the stairs and was met by the butler, Mr Rowe. Giving him a brief nod, she strode past him, looking around the entrance hall expectantly. Finding her search disappointing, Cora ascended the stairs. Finally, once at the top, the object of her hunt appeared looking anemic and scared. Letting out a deep sigh that released the stiffness in her shoulders, Cora went to her daughter and placed a concerned hand on Edith's arm. She watched as the brown eyes avoiding her own filled with tears that quickly spilled over, streaking her cheeks. Bracing her arm across Edith's shaking shoulders, Cora quickly led her back into the room she had just left and sat them both on the bed.
The familiar scent of Cora's perfume, the same one she had worn for as long as Edith could remember, enveloped her. Edith immediately felt comforted in her mother's embrace, an exhaustion taking hold as her limbs loosened and her crying stopped. She couldn't remember the last full night's sleep she'd had and her eyes drooped, her breathing steadied as her mother continued to make calming sounds while rubbing her shoulders. The terrible truth that had run through her mind since learning it took a respite from its torture as Edith relaxed against her mother.
"Darling, are you in trouble?" Cora asked quietly, the prescience of her words startling Edith.
Leaning away, the trembling began again. She opened her mouth, determined to say the words but no sound came forth. Blinking rapidly, her mouth salivating with a growing need to be sick, Edith tried again. She watched, wide-eyed, as her mother laid a careful hand on her knee.
"You're pregnant," Cora said without accusation or anger.
"Oh Mama!" Edith sobbed and once more she found herself in her mother's arms. This time the embrace was not soothing or delicate, it was fierce, tight. It sheltered her as the truth stormed around them.
"Shh, it's going to be alright," Cora crooned, and whether due to the tumult of her emotions or the anxiety of the procedure awaiting her the following day Edith didn't know, but suddenly her mother's words were no longer comforting. She became infuriated.
"Are you really that naive?" Edith cried, wrenching herself away and standing up. The bewildered look on her mother's face only fueled her ire. "Nothing is going to be alright! Do you think that I'll just be able to go back to Downton carrying my lover's child and no one will bat an eye?"
Cora took a deep breath, staying silent as Edith stomped and yelled, gesticulating wildly. Her own anger was speeding through her heart. She wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake out of her what she could have been thinking. How could she have been so irresponsible? But of course, Cora let her anger simmer within her core, to be dealt with at a later time. To Edith, she presented a placid mask, letting her daughter have her outburst, understanding that terror over her situation was driving her venom.
"What do you intend to do, then?" Cora asked calmly, as though talking to a skittish colt.
"Get rid of it!" Edith declared.
"What?!" Cora gasped, rising instantly. She gripped Edith's arm, her fingers digging into her arm. "You cannot!"
Edith yanked her arm from her mother. "What would you have me do? Put the baby in the nursery? When your guests come over shall I parade my charming bastard out with the rest of your grandchildren?"
Grandchildren. Cora pulled her hand away hastily, Edith's hot temper like a burn to her flesh. Her daughter was going to….to her grandchild. Her hand pressed into her own stomach, her throat convulsing in spasms as her eyes stung. A baby. Not just a baby, her baby's baby. A golden haired child with honey eyes and a quiet demeanor. A baby that would never take its first breath or wail its lusty cry or wrap its fingers around its mother's.
"There has to be another way," Cora whispered, pleading.
Edith sat on the chaise in the room, putting her head in her hands. "There isn't, you must realize that."
The despair in Edith's voice caused her tears to fall now. She felt a heavy disgust blanket her, that there was nothing she could do to make the circumstances better. Edith would never be able to keep the child without branding herself for life, but it seemed so wrong to spare her life in this way. Cora kneeled in front of her daughter's hunched body.
"When is the...procedure?" Cora swallowed around the thickness in her mouth.
"Tomorrow," Edith replied, her voice shaking.
"Well, then, we must get a good night's rest and store up your strength." Cora led Edith up and sat her at the vanity. With gentle fingers, she removed the pins holding Edith's curls in place, until her hair cascaded around her shoulders. While Edith wept, Cora steadily brushed out the fine strands and then began plaiting it, something she hadn't done since the girls were very little.
The inside of the car remained silent after it had parked. Edith stared at the building outside her window, its non-descript nature settling some of the nervousness she felt. Taking a deep breath, building her resolve and reaching for the door, Edith leaned back to place a quick kiss on her mother's cheek before exiting the car. Once on the sidewalk, the click-clack of her heels echoed as her hurried footsteps trailed up the steps. About to knock on the door, she stopped, feeling the air behind her shift, the nearness of another person causing her to turn, shocked. Her mother's pinched face, looking so much older suddenly that morning, staring up from the step below.
"What are you doing?" Edith asked.
"Going with you," Cora replied, her tone firm, killing the protest waiting on Edith's lips.
Both Edith and Cora were escorted into the waiting room of the clinic, and they sat carefully away from the other patients. Cora picked up a discarded magazine, trying to fix her mind on some useful distraction when all she really wanted to do was grab Edith's hand and run from that place, or at least crush her to her breast until it was time for her appointment. Never in her life had she imagined her path would bring her to such a place. She thought of Robert, how would she ever be able to face him again after allowing this?
Cora jerked when the plaintive cries of a woman could be heard through an open door and her heart palpitated uncomfortably when a nurse came to Edith, informing her it was time. It was only at that moment that she became aware of the crushing grip Edith had on her hand. Cora looked to see her daughter's pale face, a sheen of sweat forming on her brow.
"Edith…" Cora begged.
"I think…." Edith stammered, "I think that I won't be needing your help." Edith shot to her feet, pulling Cora up at the same time and hurried toward the door.
"Thank God," Cora murmured, following her daughter quickly out of the building and back to the waiting car.